Knowing that an individual death is meaningless - any individual death, especially your own - that you are not a person, but a statistic and noticing, more each day, the countless deaths that occur around you - of other people, of animals, of insects, of the sick and infirm, of accident victims, of plants ripped from the earth and worms crushed beneath the blades of plows - of authors in their rooms, scribbling out desperate words in the backs of books no one will ever read, even the shattering of molecular bonds, the disintegration of atomic structures, happening in every moment, millions in each nanosecond, everywhere. This is Deathconsciousness. And it begs the question - “what is the point?”
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